Work Text:
As they emerged from the elevator shaft and into the open air of the cavernous Vault, Winter spotted the General immediately. Ironwood was pacing back and forth on the platform, his whole bearing a study in tension, and he spun to watch them as Penny came in to land. Gently, Penny alighted on the platform next to one of the large crystal formations. Ironwood was by their side before she could even start to put Winter down.
“Winter!” he exclaimed. “You’re hurt.” Biting back a sharp comment about stating the obvious that she wouldn’t dream of verbalising to her commanding officer, Winter just nodded.
“It’s - ah - not as bad as it looks,” she said, as Penny carefully laid her on the ground, leaning against the crystal pillar. She clenched her teeth and pushed down on the pain, angry at herself for making even that small exclamation. A glance up at Ironwood’s face told her that he didn’t believe her in the slightest, and then her gaze dropped slightly and she registered for the first time that his arm was bandaged and in a sling. “Sir, you’re hurt too,” she said, surprised.
“It’s nothing,” said Ironwood, shaking his head. A blatant lie, just like hers, but of course it would be hypocritical to comment. “What happened?”
“We were attacked by Cinder,” said Winter. She shifted position, clutching at her injured side. “She found us in Fria’s room. She tried to take the Maiden powers.” Ironwood closed his eyes and clenched his fist at his side.
“But she didn’t get them?” he asked, quietly, tension growling in his voice.
“No, sir,” said Winter.
“And you retrieved the powers of the Maiden yourself?” Ironwood opened his eyes, and Winter found she couldn’t hold his gaze. She looked away, ashamed.
“No, sir,” she said again, this time quietly.
“What…?” Ironwood’s question was angry, confused.
“I did,” said Penny, speaking up for the first time. Winter looked up at her, and watched as green flames lit up around her eyes. As if waiting for the right dramatic moment, the Vault chose this point to finally react to the presence of the Maiden. The floating bars that filled the space around the platform converged on the door, forming a staircase.
But none of the three of them turned to watch. Ironwood’s eyes were fixed on Penny, and Winter watched both of them from her position on the ground.
“You…” said Ironwood, softly, still frowning.
“And her name was Fria. Not ‘the Maiden’.” Penny’s voice was firm. Ironwood held her gaze for a long moment, almost frozen, and then he sighed and covered his face with his hand.
“I know,” he said, and his voice had gone quiet. “I… I’m sorry, Penny, that must have been… difficult. For both of you.” He looked down at Winter, and there was a wobble of emotion in his voice like she hadn’t heard in a long time. Not even in the dining room earlier that night. She hadn't heard him sound like that since he’d talked about everything that had happened at Beacon.
“We did what we had to do,” said Winter. She sighed. “The task was accomplished, even if… Even if things didn’t go according to plan.” She glanced over at Penny, who was looking at her with a deep sympathy and something that might have been shame. Winter looked away quickly.
“You both did well,” said Ironwood. Winter wished she could take that reassurance, but her bitter disappointment swallowed it like a black hole. She stared at a point in the air between Penny and the General, not wanting to look at either of them. “Did… did Fria say anything? At the end?” asked Ironwood, slightly hesitantly. Penny nodded.
“She said that she had a job to do, and she wanted me to tell you that she was ready.” Ironwood breathed in and then out, almost a sigh of relief.
“That’s… good to hear,” he said. “That she was still willing.” Penny looked down at her hands.
“I do not want to let her down,” she said. “I… I am sorry the powers came to me.” She looked at Winter again, who still couldn’t meet her eyes. “But they are my responsibility now and I do not want to let anyone down.”
“You won’t,” said Ironwood. He turned towards the door and the newly formed stairway. “The Vault is already reacting to the presence of the Maiden.” He reached out a hand to Penny’s elbow, as if to guide her forwards. “We should have no trouble retrieving the Staff.” He went to walk towards the door, but stopped short when Penny didn’t budge.
“Tell me why,” she said. Ironwood blinked.
“I - I’m sorry?”
“Tell me why we are abandoning Mantle.” Ironwood’s whole bearing changed in an instant. His relief froze, his expression became hard, and he took a step back from Penny, his hand dropping to his side.
“Because it’s a necessary sacrifice,” he said, his voice as hard as his expression. Winter frowned, looking from Ironwood to Penny and back again. She wasn’t surprised that Penny was questioning the General’s decision, not after their brief argument in the corridor, but the way Ironwood was reacting… He didn’t usually get that harsh that quickly, not unless he’d repeatedly had to defend a decision. Once again, Winter found herself wondering what it was that Weiss and her friends had done. “It’s a necessary sacrifice for Atlas to survive,” Ironwood continued. “For the world to survive.”
“But why is it necessary?” Penny pressed on. “How do you decide that some lives are not worth trying to save?”
“Penny…” said Winter, a note of warning in her voice. She was getting dangerously close to insubordinate. But Penny wasn’t finished.
“You made me the Protector of Mantle because those people needed to be protected. Because their lives mattered. Why did they matter before, but not now?”
“Because things have changed,” said Ironwood, his voice still flat and emotionless. “The situation has changed, and we must change accordingly. And that means making certain decisions.”
“The decision to leave a whole city to perish?”
“Yes,” said Ironwood, simply. Penny stared at him. “Salem is on her way, and I have to make the decision to save who I can, otherwise we lose everything .” His emotionless manner was starting to crack now, tension leaking out from underneath it in his voice and his body language. “This isn’t just about Atlas and Mantle, this is about the whole world . If she gets the Relics…” Ironwood clenched his fist. “If some people have to die so that the rest of us can live, then so be it.” There was something dark in his tone as he said that, like he genuinely didn’t care, and it made Penny flinch. Winter reacted to it too, bowing her head and trying to ignore how the tone made her feel even though she understood the reasoning. She knew Ironwood cared, perhaps more than most people she knew just how much he cared, so it was hard, hearing that apparent apathy in his voice.
“Why is that your decision to make?” asked Penny, standing her ground.
“Because there’s no one else !” Suddenly, Ironwood was shouting. Winter was shocked by how quickly his tone shifted from tense but flat to angry and panicked. “No one else is willing to do what’s necessary, no one else truly understands the threat we’re facing! If I don’t make these decisions, if I don’t make sacrifices , then we will lose this war! Everyone will die!”
Winter had never seen the General like this before. At least, not as bad as this. She’d seen him angry, she’d seen him upset, she’d seen him struggling on the brink of being overwhelmed, but never all of those things at once. She felt like she should do something, reach out to him, say something, but all she could do was sit there, frozen. But Penny still held her ground.
“You cannot know that for sure,” she said. “Maybe we could-”
“No! We can’t!” Ironwood cut across her. “This is not a fight that we can win!” He clenched his fist tighter, shaking, and then launched back into pacing, turning his back abruptly on both of them as he stalked across the platform. “That’s what Ruby doesn’t understand…” It sounded like he was talking more to himself now. “None of you children understand,” he said, softly, darkly. “You don’t know what it’s like, the things you lose, the things you have to do for the sake of survival…”
He turned to face them again, and even from a distance Winter could see the panic in his face, see his wide eyes and heavy breathing. See his hand clenched on the grip of his gun. Winter felt her own eyes go wide. That wasn’t like him at all .
“Sir…” she said, but Ironwood wasn’t listening. He stared at Penny.
“You sound just like the others,” he said. “Sticking to your principles, determined to fight to the death in the hope of a longshot victory.”
“I do not see what is wrong with that,” said Penny, and Winter could tell from her stance that she’d noticed Ironwood’s hand on his gun as well. Her feet had shifted wider and her hands hovered slightly out from her sides, not drawing her swords yet but half an action closer to it. This was close to getting out of hand, but Winter didn’t know how to stop it. “If there is a chance to save everyone, including Mantle, I want to take that chance.”
“Well I can’t think like that!” Ironwood’s voice was desperate now. “Do you know what happens if I choose to fight on? If I throw the lives of my soldiers at Salem until none of us are left standing and she still wins? If we fight on and we fail , then I’m choosing to let the world die! I-I can’t do that! But, if we leave now, some people will die but more people will live. Can you understand that? I have to choose the outcome where the most people survive.”
They stood there, half a dozen paces apart, Ironwood breathing heavily and Penny staring back at him, still and watchful. The General’s hand had moved from the grip of his gun and now hovered in front of him, almost beseeching. “Penny, I need you to understand,” he practically begged. He took a step forward. Winter tensed again, because Penny was still halfway to a combat stance, but as she watched Penny’s hands fell back to her sides.
“I… I think I do,” she said, hesitantly. “I do not like it, but… I understand. You see this as a choice between saving some people and saving no one.”
“Yes!” Relief poured off of Ironwood as he stepped forward again, coming to a halt approximately where he’d been standing before. He looked down at Winter. “And with a decision like this, there is no choice.” Winter nodded, thinking about the tightly controlled regret in Ironwood’s voice as he’d ordered her to take Fria’s life, about the understanding that had passed between them on how neither of them had wanted this outcome but both knew they had no choice.
It seemed like Penny had finally reached that same understanding, although from the way she was clenching her hands in front of her, Winter could see it still upset her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relieved beyond words that no weapons had been drawn. That hadn’t been a fight she was remotely interested in seeing the outcome of, especially with her current inability to step in. Even the most basic of glyphs would be beyond her in her current state.
Ironwood turned back to Penny, and once again reached out a hand as if to guide her forwards.
“We should open the Vault now,” he said. “I don’t know how much time we have until-” He was interrupted by an urgent beeping from his Scroll. Winter immediately recognised the emergency tone, and her eyes went wide. Ironwood pulled out the Scroll and answered it. “Ironwood.”
“Sir, you really need to get down here,” said a voice that was full of barely contained panic, one vaguely recognisable as a comm tech Winter knew from the Command Centre. “There’s something on radar, and it’s huge.”
“Grimm?” asked Ironwood, tightly. Winter felt her heart thumping in her chest. No, it couldn’t be, not another attack, not this soon...
“It has to be, we’re getting multiple contacts in some sort of a swarm. Sir, it’s on a scale like nothing we’ve ever seen!”
“Put me through to Fleet Control, but stay on the line and start sending me data,” said Ironwood, his briskly efficient tone mostly but not completely covering his own panic. “I can’t join you yet, so you're my eyes.”
“Yes, sir.” There was a beep, and then a second voice.
“Sir.”
“Captain, redeploy the airfleet into a defensive formation pointing towards the incoming radar contact. Do not, I repeat, do not launch any sort of offensive until I give the word. All sensors forward, gather all information you can, we have no idea what we’re dealing with yet.”
“Yes, sir.” The line beeped again as the fleet captain disconnected.
“Alright, Jade, what are we looking at?” said Ironwood. The comm tech started relaying information rapid-fire, calling out approach speeds and coordinates, only pausing briefly as other voices chimed in with information. Ironwood listened intently, distractedly motioning for Penny to hold his Scroll for him as he activated a larger screen with tactical readouts. She did so without complaint, her own eyes as wide as Winter’s.
From her awkward position on the floor, Winter couldn’t see the tactical display properly, but she followed along as best she could from what was said. It was dizzying, so much information to process that she almost didn’t have the bandwidth to remain scared. Almost. But Ironwood handled it expertly. Tension tightened his face and his shoulders, and he didn’t always succeed in keeping his tone of voice under control, but he waded through the sea of information with the sort of skill that only 30 years of tactical command experience could produce.
It wasn’t long before a picture emerged of the approaching Grimm force, initially from comprehensive data and then from a video link directly from one of the fleet airships. Winter gasped when she saw it, Penny put both hands to her mouth, and Ironwood’s hand clenched into a fist that he pressed against his mouth. They watched in silence as an absolutely monstrous Grimm emerged from the crackling storm cloud, a behemoth of shadowy flesh and jagged teeth. Flying Grimm by the hundreds, maybe even thousands swarmed around it. Icy fear gripped Winter’s chest like a vice. This was like nothing they had ever prepared for.
There was a hush over the radio too, as every person conferenced into the call stared at the tide of monsters bearing down on them, a worst nightmare made manifest. Then, after a period of time that felt like a thousand years but couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, a single voice spoke.
“Sir, it-it appears to be slowing down.” When Ironwood didn’t respond, Winter tore her eyes from the screen and looked at him instead. He was frozen like a statue, jaw slack, eyes wide, abject horror on his face. “Sir?” With what seemed like a Herculean effort, Ironwood tore himself out of his trance.
“Say again,” he said.
“The Grimm force appears to be slowing down, sir. The swarm is falling into a holding pattern around that… thing.”
“She’s not attacking immediately?” said Ironwood, frowning. “But we’re wide open, what…?” His voice trailed off. He stared at the screen.
“What’s our move here, sir?” asked the voice of the fleet captain whose ship was transmitting the footage. She’d rejoined the call as soon as the Grimm force was in visual range. Ironwood took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he spoke.
“We hold , Captain,” he said. “Fortify our defenses, rally every troop and drone and ship that we have. If she’s going to sit out there and try and scare us into backing down, we use the extra time to our advantage.” His voice was firm, but his clenched fist still shook slightly by his side. “I’ll be heading to the Command Centre shortly, and when I arrive we’ll make our next move. In the meantime, you all have your orders. Ironwood out.” He closed the comm channel with an emphatic swipe of his hand, then just stood there for a long moment, eyes still closed.
“Sir?” asked Winter. “What are we doing now?” She glanced up at Penny, who was shifting back and forth on her feet, clearly wanting to wring her hands but unable to do so with the General’s Scroll in them. They exchanged a long, worried look. Ironwood had made no mention of the Staff plan while on the call, and hadn’t yet given the order to stop transporting civilians up from Mantle. Did that mean he had reconsidered? Winter hoped it did. Now that they’d seen what they were up against...
Finally, Ironwood scrubbed his hand across his face and then opened his eyes. He took his Scroll back and returned it to his pocket, his face set in an expression of grim determination.
“Penny, it’s time to open the Vault,” he said. "We need the Staff now ." Both Winter and Penny stared at him.
“But, sir,” said Winter, “You heard the report about Salem’s forces! Most of the Grimm are airborne. A force like that, it could follow us wherever we go! We should at least stop and consider if raising the city is still the best course of action.”
“I agree,” said Penny, worried but determined. “I think we need a new plan now.” Ironwood looked from one to the other of them, his expression hardening again.
“No.”
“Sir, I really think-”
“ No. ” It wasn’t the angry shouting from before. This time, Ironwood’s voice snapped with the full force of his authority. “We have a plan, and it’s still viable.”
“Are you sure?” asked Winter, surprised at herself for continuing to argue but not wanting to let this go. It was too important. “ Please , sir! I’m not saying it isn’t still a viable plan, but now is the time to pause and consider the new variables. You said it yourself, when the situation changes we have to change to match it!”
“So now you’re doubting me as well?” asked Ironwood, and Winter flinched. But she sat up straighter and held his stare.
“I’d doubt any commanding officer who refused to reconsider his strategy after receiving all of that new information,” she said. He held her stare right back, and she might as well have been staring at a statue.
“I agree with Winter,” said Penny. “Things have changed. We should consider other plans before we try and open the Vault.”
Ironwood’s gun was suddenly out of its holster and pointed directly at Penny.
“You’re going to open the Vault now . Don’t make me shoot you, too.”
“Sir!” Winter exclaimed, horrified. Penny took a step backwards, staring at the General in shock.
“You would… shoot me?” Penny asked, her own voice more confused than horrified. “But I am your friend.”
“I will if you make me,” said Ironwood. His face was blank, his hand was steady, and his voice was expressionless. It was much scarier than the angry shouting from before. “If you’re not with me, that makes you my enemy.” Penny stared from the gun to Ironwood’s face and back again, and then she frowned slightly.
“You said… ‘don’t make me shoot you, too ’. Who else did you shoot?” she asked. Winter’s hand went to her mouth.
“He wanted me to reconsider as well,” said Ironwood, still in that emotionless tone. “It’s not going to happen. You’re going to open that Vault.” His eyes never left Penny’s face.
“You cannot shoot me without risking losing the Maiden powers,” said Penny, calmer and more reasonable than Winter could have been in her place.
“You’re right,” said Ironwood. He turned his gun on Winter.
Winter froze. All she could hear was her own heartbeat, and all she could see was the dark circle of a gun barrel that she had never, ever thought she’d be staring down. It was unreal, incomprehensible. She’d been shocked when he’d turned his gun on Penny, but this? Threatening a life to get someone else to cooperate? Threatening her life? The man pointing the gun at her might as well have been a stranger.
“Sir…” she said, softly, and it was almost a whimper. Hot, bitter tears welled up behind her eyes as she lifted her gaze from the gun to the face behind it. For a long, horribly long moment, an expressionless stranger stared back at her from behind the face of the man she trusted most in the world.
Then he blinked, and he was James Ironwood again. His expression crumpled, and his hand began to shake as he stared at it, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe what he had just threatened to do. Penny stepped forward, resting her hand gently on top of the trembling gun.
“You are not going to shoot Winter,” she said, quietly.
“No,” said Ironwood, so softly that it was barely a word.
“Are you going to shoot me?” asked Penny. Ironwood shook his head, and let Penny push his gun hand down.
“No,” he said, again. The gun slipped out of his limp fingers and Penny caught it. Without looking away from Ironwood, she passed the gun down to Winter, who took it by the barrel and laid it on the floor. Her own hands shook slightly.
“You are not the kind of man who shoots his friends,” said Penny. Ironwood looked up at her, and then his knees buckled and he sank to the floor in front of Winter.
“But I am,” he mumbled. “I… I shot Oscar.” Penny flinched, and Winter bit her lip, tasting the tears she hadn’t realised had been running down her face.
“ Why? ” she asked, desperate for some sort of explanation, every part of her hoping that there was one, that the boy had attacked first, something, anything to justify why this man had done something like that . “Why would you do that?” Ironwood knelt before her, head bowed, not able to look her in the eye. Her hope started to die, stabbed in the side with a small, sharp crystal of doubt. “Did he try and fight you? Or… was it just because he questioned your plans?”
“Because he sounded like Ozpin,” said Ironwood, quietly, to the floor. “Because he said I was as dangerous as Salem and I couldn’t take that, not from him. Not after everything he’s done.” Winter’s heart clenched with bitter disappointment. Even Ironwood knew that was no justification, she could see it written across the slump of his shoulders.
“But Oscar is not Ozpin,” said Penny. Her voice was softer, and Winter recognised disappointment in it. “Just like I am not Fria.” Ironwood shook his head.
“It’s not that simple.”
“No amount of complication excuses shooting a child , sir,” said Winter. She was disappointed and appalled and desperately confused. How? How had he let himself do these things? How had he let himself become this man?
“I know,” said Ironwood, finally looking up at her. There was regret in his expression, along with a dozen other complicated things she couldn’t identify or name. “I don’t have… Nothing excuses that.” He took a deep breath, and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “But nothing can change it, either. And it doesn’t change anything else. It doesn’t change what we need to do now.” He squared his shoulders again and looked at Penny, who was kneeling beside him. “You need to open the Vault.”
“ No , sir,” said Winter, firmly. “ You need to listen. You told me something once, about emotions and the part they play in command decisions. You told me that we have to acknowledge our personal feelings, to wrestle with them. But we can’t let them control our actions, or our decisions.” Penny reacted slightly to the words, recognising them from earlier. “I think you’re letting your fear control you. Why else would you make the decisions you’ve been making tonight? Why else would you hurt and threaten people that I know you care about?”
Ironwood stared at her, mouth slightly open. That was quite possibly the most upfrontly critical she had ever been of him, and was certainly the first time that she had defied an order to his face. The complicated look was gone, but the blankness that replaced it was different to the awful expression from before. This was the face of an Ironwood who had been caught off guard, whose emotions had stalled while his brain tried to catch up with what he was hearing. Winter hadn’t seen it often, but she’d seen it enough times to recognise it.
“I…”
“You are a good man , James Ironwood,” said Winter, leaning forward and staring into his eyes, begging him to listen. “A man I have always been proud to follow, but I won’t follow you down that path.” Ironwood blinked and swallowed, his eyebrows knitting together as he held her gaze.
“It is not a good path,” said Penny, shaking her head. “People like Cinder do bad things because they are afraid of being powerless. You should not be like them. You should not have to hurt people to get them to do what you want.” Ironwood pressed his lips together, and almost winced.
“She’s right,” said Winter, pushing on, hoping that together they were getting through to him, thankful for Penny’s straightforward words that cut right to the heart of what she herself was struggling to say. “We’ll both follow you, but only if you act like the man who has our loyalty. If you truly believe the only solution is raising the city, I will help you do it.” Ironwood’s eyes widened, hope adding itself to the layers of emotions on his face.
“So will I,” said Penny. “But I need to know that you are doing it for the right reasons. That you have considered other options first. That you are not being controlled by your personal feelings.” But now Ironwood shook his head, tension building in his shoulders and expression again.
“We don’t have time for a debate,” he said, voice low and fast and desperate. “If we don’t act now -”
Penny hugged him. The sudden movement surprised both Ironwood and Winter.
“It is okay to be afraid,” said Penny, into Ironwood’s shoulder. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him, pinning his right arm to his side but avoiding putting too much pressure on his injured arm. He stayed rigid for a long moment, and then crumpled into the hug.
Winter stared at them both, wrestling with her own conflicting feelings. Stared at Penny, who was her friend but who had taken the powers that she had spent so long thinking of as her destiny, her right. At Ironwood, her mentor, the man she had dedicated her life to, who had done things this evening that might forever change the way she thought of him. Her resentment of Penny, her disappointment in Ironwood, her hatred of her own failure, they all swirled darkly in her mind. She wanted to retreat, to hide from this. To lose herself in structures and routines like she always did. To rebuild her walls and never let people back through them again.
But... This was Penny. Penny, with her strange cheerfulness and endless curiosity that made it hard to stay closed off around her. Penny, who she’d come to see as almost another little sister. And this was also James Ironwood, the man who’d been a solid and dependable presence in her life ever since she’d been a teenager, possibly the only such presence she’d ever had. A man she cared about, who had never let her down before, and who she found it hard not to think of as…
Grimacing at the pain of moving, squashing the voice in her mind that insisted this wasn’t proper behaviour for a Schnee or a soldier, Winter sat up, and wrapped her own arms around Penny and Ironwood. She held them both close, her face buried in Ironwood’s neck.
“Please, sir,” she whispered,. “You’re better than this. I need you to be better than this. You’re… you’re the closest thing I have to a real father and I don’t want to lose you.” It was a plea and a confession both. Even though those words, that sentiment, was so very private, Winter found she didn’t care that Penny would have heard them too. She felt Ironwood shift in surprise at her words, and then his shoulders shook. For a long moment, Penny and Winter both held him as he took deep, shaky breaths, each one a little further away from a sob. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and caught in his throat.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I’ll try.” Gently, firmly but not unkindly, he shook them both off and sat back upright. Winter collapsed back against the crystal pillar, and Penny rocked back on her heels into a fluid motion that took her back to standing. Ironwood stayed kneeling, rubbing his face with his hand. He took another deep breath, and this time it sounded decisive. “So, what next?” he asked, his face still hidden but his voice stronger, more sure.
“Call the Command Centre again,” said Winter, taking a deep breath of her own to calm her pounding heart. It was easier to think about tactical decisions than what had just passed between the three of them. “If Salem still isn’t moving her forces, we have time to plan.”
“Find out how much longer the evacuation of Mantle will take to complete,” said Penny. Ironwood lowered his hand slowly and stared up at her for a long moment.
“The... evacuation?”
“We might not have to abandon Mantle,” Penny continued, firmly. “If we have more time, we might have enough time to save everyone.” She reached out a hand and pulled Ironwood to his feet with ease, despite him being so much taller than her. “I think we should try.” Ironwood held her gaze for another long moment and then nodded, once. He folded his right arm behind his back in the closest he could get to his habitual stance with one arm in a sling, and Penny mirrored his posture automatically.
“You’re right,” he said. “We should try.”
“But we should also make sure we have the Staff first,” said Winter, pushing herself into sitting up as straight as she could manage. Both Penny and Ironwood looked down at her. “We don’t know what Salem has in store for us, and it may still be necessary to retreat at very short notice, regardless of whether she can follow or not.”
“I agree,” said Ironwood. “Penny?” She nodded.
“Yes. But I have one more condition.” Ironwood frowned.
“What is it?”
“You need to call Ruby and Weiss and their friends,” said Penny. “They could help too.” Ironwood’s frown turned into a scowl, echoes of tension returning as he shook his head.
“They’re the ones who refused to listen,” he said, voice tight. “Who don’t understand what needs to be done.”
“But they might, sir,” said Winter, hoping against hope that it was true. Her sister could be stubborn, and by all accounts Ruby was even more so, but surely they could be reasoned with. “If it’s explained to them properly. If they understand that you’re still doing everything you can for Mantle.”
“Maybe they could help us to launch Amity Tower,” said Penny, surprising the other two. “I know Ruby really likes that plan.” They both looked at her.
“But Amity isn’t actually ready to launch,” said Ironwood, shaking his head.
“But it isn’t far off,” said Winter, thoughtfully. “Penny, do you think your father would be able to get it operational?”
“My dad can do anything,” said Penny, confidently.
“It’s worth a try, sir,” said Winter, looking up at Ironwood. “If we can call for help, or even just warn the rest of the world about what’s happening here…”
“I… had given up on that plan,” said Ironwood. He rubbed his face again, and Winter wondered how many times she’d seen that familiar sign of stress. “Wasting resources on a communications tower in the middle of an invasion…”
“If we are able to warn the rest of the world about Salem, it will not be a waste,” said Penny. Ironwood pressed his fist against the bridge of his nose for a long moment, and then nodded.
“Right,” he said, and Winter recognised it as the prelude to a set of orders. She sat up even straighter, ignoring the pain from her injured side. “Winter, I need you to contact the airship crews involved in the evacuation, get an estimate of how complete it is. Then I need you to get in touch with Clover and redirect him to the Command Centre. I’m going to call in, let them know I’ve been delayed and get another update.” Winter nodded briskly. “Penny…” He trailed off, looking at her.
“Sir!” said Penny, saluting.
“I want you to contact Ruby. Maybe she’ll listen if it comes from you. Tell her… Tell her that we’re not abandoning Mantle until we have to. That, if she’s willing to continue helping with the evacuation and with the launch of Amity, I’ll cancel the arrest orders on her and her friends.”
“Yes, sir!” said Penny, grinning. “You are doing the right thing, sir!” Ironwood managed the smallest of smiles in response.
“I hope so, Penny,” he said. “I hope so.”
Leaving Winter and the General to make their own calls, Penny wandered further down the Vault platform. She stared up at the golden door at the top of the newly assembled stairs, and then looked down at her hands. It was strange, thinking about how she was now the only person in the whole world who could open those doors. She didn’t feel any different to how she had felt before.
Although, that wasn’t entirely true. She squeezed her hands closed. Mainly, she felt bad. She felt all twisted up inside by the fact that she had stolen the powers that Winter had wanted so desperately. She had stolen Winter’s destiny. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t meant to. And now Winter was hurt, on the inside as well as the outside.
Her closed hands turned to fists. Cinder would pay for that. She was having… personal feelings about it. Cinder was the one who had hurt her, back in the arena at Beacon, but more importantly she had hurt all of Penny’s friends. She had hurt her dad, she had hurt General Ironwood, and now she had hurt Winter. Penny cared a lot about Winter. She wasn’t sure if they were friends, but she hoped that they were. She worried that they might not be anymore. Not after what she had done.
But there was one person that Penny knew was her friend, and that was who she was supposed to be thinking about right now. She had a job to do.
She activated her communications systems, and searched for Ruby’s Scroll. It was… just outside the borders of the city, if she was judging the signal strength correctly. Penny didn’t know what that meant, but she hoped it was a good thing. She called Ruby.
“Penny?” Ruby picked up straight away. “Where are you?! Weiss and I went to the Maiden’s room looking for you and all we found was a lot of ice. Are you okay?”
“I am… in one piece,” said Penny, not wanting to lie. “Are you okay? I know the General tried to have you arrested.”
“He tried ,” said Ruby. “We managed to beat up the AceOps and escape. We met up with your dad and Maria! They’re both with us, and they’re okay, and so are Jaune and Ren and Nora. But we can’t find Oscar and he’s not answering his Scroll.”
“I’m glad you are okay,” said Penny, relieved. Then she sighed. “I do not know where Oscar is either.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. She genuinely didn’t know where he was, or what had happened to him. Knowing that the General had shot him was not enough information to extrapolate from. And she really didn’t want to be the one who had to break that news. Ironwood could do it himself, and face the consequences. She was still very unhappy that he had done something like that. It was… disappointing, and a lot of other complicated words that she hadn’t quite found yet.
“Where are you ?” asked Ruby.
“I am in the Vault,” said Penny. “Winter is here with me, and so is the General.”
“You’re with Ironwood?!” Ruby’s voice was loud and squeaky, and Penny turned down the volume on the call slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay??”
“Yes, I am sure,” said Penny. “A lot has happened, and I need to talk to you seriously, Ruby.”
“O...kay?” said Ruby, sounding confused. “I’m listening.”
“Winter and I have been talking to General Ironwood and we have convinced him to rethink his plan.”
“Really?! Penny, that’s great! Good for you, Protector of Mantle!” Ruby paused for a second. “He is going to try and save Mantle too, right?”
“Yes,” said Penny. “But it is not that simple.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it may still be necessary to use the Staff to save Atlas and all the people already on it before the evacuation can be completed.” Ruby started to say something, but Penny cut across her. “Please listen. General Ironwood does not want to abandon anyone, but he has to try and save everyone that he can. Sometimes that isn’t everyone.”
“Penny, you sound like him.”
“Because I agree with him. I do not like it, any more than you do, but what if you are wrong about being able to save everyone? What if trying to do that gets everyone killed instead? I do not want to be the reason that this kingdom falls.”
“Neither do I, but there has to be a better way!”
“There is,” said Penny. “The General wants to try and launch Amity Tower as well, and he has agreed to try and evacuate as much of Mantle as possible before using the Staff. It is not a perfect plan, but do you have a better one?” There was a long silence from Ruby’s end of the call. Then there was a sigh.
“No, I don’t. He’s really going to launch Amity? I thought it wasn’t actually ready yet.”
“That is where you come in,” said Penny. “And my dad. If you agree to help launch the tower, General Ironwood will cancel the arrest warrants.”
“What if we want to help down in Mantle instead?”
“You can,” said Penny. “It is up to you where you help. The General will not fight you as long as you are helping.” Ruby sighed, and it was a deep sigh of relief.
“Good,” she said. “All we want to do is help. If Ironwood has stopped being stubborn, maybe we can all work together again.”
“I do not think it is possible for the General to stop being stubborn,” said Penny, and Ruby snorted. Penny tilted her head slightly, realising something. “It’s a way that you are very much alike.” Ruby made an offended noise.
“That’s a bit mean, Penny,” she said.
“I wasn’t saying it to be mean!” said Penny, shaking her head. “I was just saying. I do not think being stubborn is always a bad thing.”
“I guess it depends on what you’re being stubborn about,” said Ruby. She took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll tell the others about the new plan. They’re all staring at me already anyway.” Penny heard some vague noises from the other end of the call that might have been voices. “Will I call you when I know what we’ve decided to do?”
“You should call the General,” said Penny. Ruby made an unimpressed noise. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to him, but it is important that you do. There are… some things he should probably say to you himself.” She thought about Oscar, and worried. She hoped he was alright, otherwise things might get difficult again very quickly.
“Hopefully ‘sorry’ is one of them,” said Ruby. “But okay, I’ll call him. But you’re the one I’m going to hug the next time I see you, because you did spec-tac-u-lar-ly! I mean it, I still can’t believe you got Ironwood to listen.” Penny smiled.
“Thank you, Ruby. Winter also helped.”
“Did she get the Maiden powers?” Penny hesitated. She looked down at her hands again. “Penny?” asked Ruby, when the pause went on slightly too long.
“Winter did not get the powers. I did.”
“...oh. That’s… What do you think about that?” Penny sighed.
“I do not know. I feel bad for Winter, but I am glad that Cinder didn’t succeed in stealing the powers for herself.”
“You ran into Cinder?” Ruby’s voice squeaked again in surprise.
“Yes. She got away.”
“She does that,” said Ruby, darkly. “But we’ll get her eventually. She can’t hide forever.”
“No, she cannot,” said Penny. Glancing behind her, Penny saw that Ironwood had crouched down beside Winter, and they seemed to be concerned about something. “Ruby, I should probably go. The General needs me to open the Vault.” Ruby started to say something, but Penny anticipated it. “Do not worry, I won’t let him use the Staff until there is no other choice.”
“Okay,” said Ruby. “I trust you, Penny. Talk to you again soon, and good luck.”
“Good luck to you, too,” said Penny, and Ruby closed the connection from her end. Penny turned and walked back along the platform to Winter and the General. “Is something wrong?” she asked, crouching down beside Ironwood so she wasn’t towering over Winter either.
“Clover isn’t responding,” said Ironwood, rubbing his face with his hand. He’d been doing that a lot lately, especially today, and now his beard was starting to get untidy. “I’ve got people in Command trying to reach him, but the last time he checked in he was transporting Callows with Qrow and Robyn, and I’m concerned something has happened to them.”
“That is not good,” said Penny.
“No, it isn’t,” said Ironwood. “And to make matters worse, the rest of the AceOps are currently in the med centre, recovering from a beating they sustained at the hands of Team RWBY.” He sighed, irritated and worried at the same time.
“Ruby told me about that,” said Penny. “They did not want to be arrested.”
“Then they shouldn’t have disobeyed orders,” said Ironwood, shortly, but then he took a deep breath, making a visible effort not to get more annoyed. “What else did she say?”
“She is happy to help with launching Amity and continuing the evacuations in Mantle. She is currently discussing where to help with the others. When they have decided what they’re going to do, she will call you.” Ironwood nodded.
“Good.”
“When she does, I think you should tell her about Oscar,” continued Penny.
“Absolutely not,” said Ironwood, shaking his head. “If I tell her that, there’s no way she’ll listen to me about anything else.”
“But the truth is important,” said Penny. “Even when it is not a good truth. You have always said that yourself.” Ironwood stared at her for a long moment, and then looked at Winter, raising an inquiring eyebrow. Winter sighed.
“I’m not sure what you should do about that,” she said, sounding very tired and a little bit sad. “But, sir… I want you to know that I will be including what you told us about Oscar in my official report. I know there might not be anyone to report to when all this is over, but… What you did…” Winter trailed off, looking away, and then after a long moment looked Ironwood directly in the face. “You should face the consequences for your actions.” Ironwood held her gaze for a long moment, and then sighed.
“I’m not going to argue with that,” he said. He looked at Penny. “But I still don’t think telling Ruby about Oscar will help anything.”
“It will help Oscar, if he is hurt,” said Penny. “People should be looking for him.”
“Of course!” said Winter, suddenly. “He’s using a military-issue Scroll. Sir, you have the ability to track its location.”
“You’re right,” said Ironwood. He pulled his own Scroll out again and fumbled slightly with it until he could use it properly one-handed. As he tapped his way through various menus and authorisation checks, Penny found herself staring at his bandaged arm and wondering what had happened there. She’d noticed the injury as soon as she’d seen the General, but she’d also noticed how he had brushed off Winter’s attempt to ask about it so had left the matter alone. She hoped it wasn’t anything too serious.
That thought caused her to turn her attention to Winter, so badly hurt by Cinder that she couldn't stand, and she resolved to make sure the two of them made it to the med centre as soon as possible. People were so very fragile… Then her brief thoughts were interrupted by Ironwood finishing his task. “There he is,” he said, indicating a red dot pulsing on the screen of his Scroll. “Or his Scroll, at any rate.”
“He is down in Mantle,” said Penny. She tilted her head. “How did he get all the way down there?” Ironwood grimaced.
“He, uh, he fell.”
“Sir!” exclaimed Winter, more disappointed than anything else.
“Do you think he could have survived falling all that way?” asked Penny, calculating distances and velocities and concluding that the distance between the underside of Atlas and the ground below was more than enough for a person to reach terminal velocity.
“It’s possible,” said Ironwood. “If he had a landing strategy. It wouldn’t be a problem for Ozpin, I know that.”
“Then there is hope,” said Penny. “You should send that information to Ruby so she can go and find him.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Winter. “Over and above being the right thing to do, it will help to prove that you want to cooperate with them.” Ironwood nodded.
“I’ll do that,” he said. “I was also going to unlock their Scrolls, but it appears your father has already taken care of that, Penny. It’s his access codes that were used to circumvent mine. He’s either with or in contact with Ruby and the others, I would presume.”
“Yes,” said Penny. “Please do not be mad at him for helping them.” Ironwood typed on his Scroll for a while, then he put it away, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We’ve all done things this evening that are best put behind us,” he said, heavily. Then he looked over at the Vault door. “We have to move on.” Penny nodded.
“Is it time to open the Vault?”
“Yes,” said Ironwood. “We can retrieve the Staff, and then we’re going to take you to the medical centre.” He said that last part to Winter, who opened her mouth as if to argue. “No arguments, Winter,” said Ironwood, firmly but gently. “You’re hurt, and I know it’s worse than you’re letting on.” Winter closed her mouth again, and then grimaced.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Can you stand?” asked Penny. “Only… I do not want to enter the Staff chamber without you. These powers should have been yours.” Winter closed her eyes, her expression pained and complicated. Then she opened them again.
“Please don’t feel bad about that, Penny,” she said. “It’s not your fault.” Penny wished she could believe her, but she’d run seven different alternate versions of the events in Fria’s room and concluded that yes, it was her fault that things had turned out the way they had. She looked down at her hands. After a moment, a hand touched her knee and another one came to rest on her shoulder. “You did your duty,” said Winter, squeezing her knee.
“She’s right,” said Ironwood, squeezing her shoulder with his metal hand. Penny placed a hand of her own on top of each of theirs and squeezed back.
“Thank you,” she said. She didn’t believe them, but she still appreciated the sentiment.
“Now, come on,” said the General. He stood up. “As soon as you’re ready,” he said, glancing significantly from Penny to Winter, then walked a few paces away along the platform. Penny watched him go, but turned back to Winter when she felt two hands take both of hers.
“Penny,” said Winter.
“Winter?” said Penny.
“I know this isn’t how either of us wanted things to go. But the powers of the Winter Maiden came to you, and that means you have a duty. Not just to Atlas, but to Remnant itself. I know that’s scary, but I also know that you’ll make me proud.” Winter’s voice was soft but insistent, and she held onto Penny’s hands as she spoke. “And you’ll make Fria proud, too.”
“I… I hope so,” said Penny, just as softly. “And I really am sorry.”
“I know,” said Winter, her voice breaking slightly. “I know that’s why you want me to come with you, but I can’t. I’m too hurt. So I need you to do this for me. Do you understand?” Slowly, Penny nodded.
“When this is all over, we will come back down here to return the Staff together,” she said. Winter smiled, a little strained but genuine.
“I’ll look forward to it. Now go.” Penny held her gaze for another long moment, and then nodded, once. She stood up, Winter letting go of her hands as she did so.
Step by step, feeling the unfamiliar powers surging within her, Penny walked down the platform towards the staircase and the golden doorway. Ironwood fell into step beside her. They reached the stairs together. Penny took one last look back over her shoulder at Winter, who looked so small sat against the base of the crystal pillar. She watched as Winter made a small ‘go on’ gesture with her hands. Taking a deep breath, never sure if it actually helped or was just a mannerism she’d picked up from the humans around her, she turned and climbed the stairs. Ironwood followed only a step or two behind and slightly to her left.
There was a small landing at the top, and only now that they were up close did Penny realise how big the golden door was. It towered over both of them, beautiful and intimidating all at once.
“Have you ever been inside?” Penny asked Ironwood in hushed tones.
“Only once,” he said, equally softly. “Quite some years ago, now, when I first learned about all of this.” He gestured vaguely with his hand, as if trying to encompass the enormous truths that they were both now privy to.
“What’s it like?” she asked. Ironwood shook his head.
“That’s something you have to see for yourself. You won’t believe me if I tell you.” Slowly, Penny reached for his hand and slid her fingers between his. Ironwood made a small sound of surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Penny squeezed his hand, feeling the hard edges and rigid metal fingers underneath his glove. She’d never told him this, but it brought her comfort, knowing that in at least this small way, he was a little bit like her.
“Do you remember when you told me that one day it would be my job to save the world?” she asked. Ironwood nodded. “I still don’t think I am ready for that yet.” He squeezed her hand back.
“One step at a time,” he said. “Let’s save our kingdom first.” He looked down at her, and smiled despite the exhaustion and worry in his face. “All of it, if we can.” Penny smiled back as best she could.
Slowly, carefully, she reached out a hand and touched the door.